one.
agent lennon

The funny thing about Juliana Montgomery was that no one knew much about her, but she could make you feel like you were her best friend in the whole world. Not where she came from, not why she was sitting pretty in Queens, New York; no one even knew much to anything about her family. She even had her last name changed to Lennon because she didn't want anyone to do any digging on her past. She barely contacted those back home, and she barely let anyone into her life — with only few exceptions of a handful of friends. And even they did not know much about her.

After starting college later in life, she decided to head into the police academy. There, she excelled, passed every test they threw at her with flying colors. She became top of her class, beating out all of the boys in every physical test that they happened to throw her way. She was an excellent marksman, and when everyone went to ask her how, she simply just explained that her father had been in the military and thought it right to teach his daughter how to shoot a gun.

Juliana even knew her way around the law, before she even began taking classes. She'd later say that you have to know the rules so you know how to break them, and that had always been her philosophy. So it wasn't all that hard to believe that the rough-and-tumble girl got her badge at twenty-four and began working with New York's finest. Surprisingly enough, she moved up the ranks to detective in just a year; it just seemed like the girl had a knack for solving crimes and looking at things at a different angle that usually always caught the criminal.

Eventually, Juliana went down to Washington and sought after a career in the FBI. And she got exactly that.

The fact remained that the girl had been raised a hunter, and grew up knowing how to kill anything that went bump in the night. She had her own collection of silver knives, salt rounds sat beside her regular ammo, she had stacks of books in her apartment with strange lore, and a second language in Latin. She was strange to just about everyone she met.

Juliana sat at her desk, flicking over the files and filling out her paperwork. She would be clocking in overtime, but she needed the money — credit card fraud wasn't a thing she could do anymore. She had passed her background check, sure, her record was squeaky clean, but that did not mean she did not get into trouble. She was just very good at hiding it.

She left her hunting life, along with everyone she had ever known in it, behind. That life left her raw and broken, and she went in search for more meaning — for the white picket fence she had always dreamed about. Juliana was positive that no one from her old life knew where she was, or if she was alive, and she intended to keep it that way. She certainly did not want hunters sniffing around her business and asking for favors.

"Julia, we're all going out to a bar, wanna join?" asked her partner, Robert Nunez, who was a Special Agent for the FBI Intelligence Specialist Unit, and was currently Juliana's mentor.

She was the rookie in the unit, and she knew she had to make friends with her co-workers (it simply made the environment better to work in and trust was the foundation, because one day, your life could be in someone else's hands). "I've got a lot of paper work to finish, mind if I meet up with you guys in, say, an hour?"

Robert smiled, "Sure, I'll text you where we end up heading,"

"Thank you," and she got back to her work.

They had just closed a case, and Juliana wanted to make sure she got all of her work finished in a timely fashion, as to look good to her superiors, and to make a good impression on the unit. When Robert texted her the address for the pub they went to, she told him she would meet them there in twenty minutes, but that was when her other phone went off. It was the only way to contact her mother, and sure it was sketchy to literally everyone, but she did not want her old life to resurface in case anyone happened to look at her phone records. Her mother's number was the only one saved, and the only one she would answer, seeing her mother was the only one who had it (mostly just for emergencies only).

The number that flickered across the screen was not one she recognized, and so she hung up on them, sending whoever it was to her voicemail. She got up from her desk, said a few goodbyes on her way out of the unit, and gussied herself up in the bathroom. She had her hair tied back, a blouse and a pencil skirt, her jacket slung over her arm. She touched up her makeup, and made her way out of the Quantico building, hoping to look like she did not just come from work (but it was pretty obvious that she did).

Her personal phone rang again as she got into her car, a four door Jeep that was one of the only reminders of her old life traveling across the country, hunting monsters. With a frown, she declined the call again and threw the phone back into her purse.

The bar was crowded, even for a Friday night, but Juliana made her way to her co-workers. They each had a beer in hand, glancing at the television in between talk about work. She was thankful to talk about work, as literally anything else was a slippery slope for her.

"Julia!" they chorused, smiles on their faces.

"Hey," Juliana said awkwardly as she sat down, ordering herself a beer, as to not look too out of the loop. Her drink of choice was typically bourbon, but she did not mind brandy either.

The conversation quickly turned from work, to finding out more about the rookie, and it took everything in Juliana to not give herself away through body language.

"Yeah! We don't know much about what you did before you joined the NYPD." said Evan Kline, one of the older men in their unit.

Juliana pursed her lips, "Not much to tell, really," she paused, "Actually kind'a boring."

Marie Hansen rolled her eyes, "Come on, Lennon, give us some details."

She frowned, "I was born in Austin, Texas, but my dad was military, so we moved around a lot. Got stuck in a little town, as a waitress and I decided I wanted out. I wanted more from my life. Not all that interesting, guys."

"Sounds more like you're on the run from something," Henry laughed, taking a swig of his drink.

Juliana froze, eyes going down to the table, and she grabbed her drink. She took a long sip, making the table fall silent.

"If it's a crazy ex, we can kill him,"

"Marie!"

"Oh, shut up, Nunez," Marie rolled her eyes.

Ben, the rookie before Juliana joined, agreed, "Yeah, come on, Robbie. Nobody fucks with one of our own."

"We're federal agents, you fucks." Robert shook his head, but then he offered Juliana a sly smile, "But seriously, if it's a crazy ex, we can make it look like an accident,"

The table erupted into laughter, cheers and clinking of glasses making Juliana take a relieved sigh and smile. "No crazy ex — well not necessarily," she chuckled, fiddling with her bottle of beer. "Not really running — just want to keep the past in the past."

Robert nodded in agreement, "I'll drink to that,"

"To the future!" Marie cheered, raising her bottle, to which everyone clinked and took a drink.


Juliana made her way up the stairs, to her third floor one-bedroom apartment. One of her neighbors, a pregnant accountant, usually got in late during the latter part of the week.

"Hey, Julie, late night?" Heather smiled, a hand resting on her fourth month bump.

"No," she chuckled, "Went out to a bar with my co-workers, actually,"

"Oh, that's nice, I could go for a glass of wine," Heather giggled, "but instead, I'm having a glass of cranberry juice and going to bed."

"Well, you enjoy that. Have a good night, Heather," Juliana said, unlocking her door and slipping away inside.

She went to flick on her light, but noticed the light switch was up, when she normally made sure it was down — meaning someone had turned on the light and then used the lamp switch in the living room to turn it back off. Something very, very small that she did — thanks to the paranoia of her old life. Juliana put a hand on her gun and then flicked the light on, illuminating the room.

Across from her stood a man, broad shouldered with a worn-in brown leather jacket. He felt familiar. He set down a bottle of bourbon he must have grabbed from her pantry, turning to face her, and she drew her weapon.

"Dean?"

The man only grinned, "Hey, Jules,"